Perennial (23 page)

I struggle to obey the speed limits on my drive to Beaconsfield High. It’s a cold, overcast morning. Despite my sky-high energy levels, heightened senses, and manic excitement at the prospect of being with William, an underlying depression swims through me that matches the dreary weather. William disappears forever in seventeen hours, and there’s a very real chance that I could die today.

I pull into the school just before seven. Blade rests on the passenger seat. I’m wearing jeans and black Chuck Taylors again, along with a black Detroit Tigers sweatshirt Dad gave me a couple of years ago. The strategic tears in the jeans seemed even larger this morning, so I slipped on a pair of tight-fitting black yoga pants from my nightmarish junior year fitness class to keep me warm. I even put on the matching black yoga tank beneath the sweatshirt.

The student lot is mostly empty this early, and I easily spot William’s latest joyride backed into the last row nearest the tennis courts. It’s a black Yukon Denali with custom wheels and fully tinted windows. I can’t see William behind the darkened windshield, but I know he’s there. I park a few spots away and sheathe Blade before killing the Explorer’s ignition and getting out.

The Yukon’s powerful engine hums like a caged animal. The driver’s-side window powers smoothly down as I approach, revealing William’s gorgeous pale face, dark hair, and mesmerizing eyes.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says. “Need a ride?”

“A Yukon?” I shake my head. “Don’t you think the owner has already reported it stolen?”

“Probably.” He pauses. “Look, it’s my last day and I wanted a nice ride, okay? And I don’t
steal
cars. I borrow them without permission. Remember?”

“Right.” I lean against the door and stand on my tiptoes to kiss his soft lips. “It’s freezing out here.”

“Hop in. It’s warm.” He nods toward the passenger seat. “And the backseat is the size of a bedroom, if you know what I mean.”

I take a step back. “You really are dangerous, aren’t you?”

Then I smile and walk around the front of the Yukon.

It’s impossible for us not to touch each other as William leaves Beaconsfield and heads for southbound I-75 en route to Oval City. We say little as darkness gives way to a clear sky and a brilliant sunrise. His right hand rests on my left thigh. My left hand caresses the side of his face and massages the back of his neck. His overall silence and intense gaze worry me. I keep hoping to get a reading on him. That doesn’t happen, but Blade’s lack of movement reassures me that all is well for now.

Rush hour traffic builds. We’re barely moving by the time we reach Mack Avenue. What shocks me is how deserted the Friday morning Detroit landscape becomes once we leave I-75 and exit onto the service drive. We’ve gone from a busy commuter metropolis to a decaying ghost town in less than thirty seconds. It was dark the first time we came out here, which was creepy enough, but what I realize as William crosses Mack Avenue and passes the safety of Eastern Market is that daylight makes this place even scarier, especially on days like today when there isn’t a market. Garbage lines the streets. Overgrown brush blankets the seemingly endless stretch of graffiti-tagged abandoned buildings. The smell of raw sewage penetrates the warm safety of the Yukon.

But it’s the silence and lack of human activity I find most terrifying. There’s
nobody
around. In fact, the closer William gets to the four gutted Oval City towers that glare at us like concrete demons, the lonelier and scarier our surroundings become. Though William says nothing, I sense that he feels the same way. His gaze constantly shifts from the eerie buildings to the pothole-riddled road in front of him.

He makes a right on Wilkins and travels farther down the street than he did the other night when we encountered the mysterious and evil homeless man. William eventually backs the Yukon into an ancient driveway flanked by sagging trees on both sides, giving us our own secluded view of Oval City across the street and the Detroit riverfront skyline beyond.

He takes a few deep breaths and stares at the vacant towers. His hand still rests on my thigh, and as he moves it higher I close my eyes and unsuccessfully try pushing away the thought that the Yukon’s backseat is the size of a bedroom.

“It’s so quiet right now,” I say.

“Don’t let the silence fool you.” He stares straight ahead. “They’re waiting for us.”

I open my eyes. “When you left last night, you couldn’t tell me where you were going or what you were doing. You came here, didn’t you?” He nods. Barely. “This is where you’ve been staying since you crossed over on Tuesday. Am I right?”

“Are you reading me right now?” He finally looks at me.

“No. I’m putting pieces together. That creepy homeless man wasn’t crazy. He really did see you the night before. That’s why you looked away from him.” He offers another slight nod. “Where exactly have you been staying down here?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll find out soon enough.”

“You’re afraid of something,” I say, brushing my fingertips against his high cheekbone. “I can tell. It’s like you’re having second thoughts. What’s wrong, William?”

He gives me a look. “Are you
sure
you aren’t reading me right now?”

“I’m positive.” I look out toward the haunting buildings. “What’s wrong?”

William says, “What’s wrong is that both the nightmare and the countdown begin the moment we turn onto Brewster Loop.” He leans closer. Our mouths are inches apart. His proximity sends waves of warmth through me from head to toe. “I brought you here early because this is the last time we’ll be alone together.” He pauses. “Think about it. Nobody knows what will happen after this. I want us to last forever, but we both know it ends soon.”

He kisses me softly and places his palms on either side of my face. I feel like warm putty in his hands. When he lowers his mouth and begins kissing my neck, I arch my head back and feel like a volcano that’s about to erupt.

“How much time do you think we have?” I ask, breathless and leaning back against the passenger-side door as William positions himself gently on top of me and continues working his magic on my neck.

“You’re the psychic demon slayer,” he whispers without looking up. “You tell me.”

I think about Blade still resting motionlessly in my back pocket and smile.

“We could have hours.” I notice the windows fogging up. “Imagine that.”

“I love you, Alix.” His warm breath hits my skin. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

“Oh my God, William. It’s getting really hot in here.”

“Yes.” He presses his lips against my chest. “Yes, it is.”

“Don’t leave any marks on my neck.” I pull him closer until his body presses firmly against mine. “My dad will kill you.”

“Your dad can’t kill me. I’m already dead.” William emits a quick laugh. “But don’t worry. I’m a ghost. Not a vampire.”

He pulls me quickly but softly up toward him and begins removing my sweatshirt. I raise my arms to make things easier for him. William tosses my shirt into the backseat and runs a hand through my hair as his other hand lands on one of the rips in my jeans and presses against the black yoga pants beneath.

Eyeing my black tank top, he says, “Do the pants beneath the jeans match the tank?”

“Yes.” I smile. “As a matter of fact they do.”

“I bet they look great on you.”

“Hmm. Would you like to see?”

William smiles. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“It’s a little cramped up here,” I say, indicating the front seat and then nodding toward the backseat. “How about I meet you back there?”

“After you, my lady.” He gestures with his hand for me to go first.

“William?”

“Yes.”

There’s a long silence.

Then I say, “I’m taking my glasses off for a few hours.”

He watches in amazement as I slide my black chunky frames over the bridge of my nose and toss them into the glove compartment. Then I crawl toward the back of the Yukon with a wide smile on my face.

The next four hours change me forever.

“It’s time,” William says.

“I know.” I slide my glasses back on. “I feel it.”

We’re back in the front seat, fully clothed and ready to confront Oval City and all of its evil. William starts the engine and pulls out of the secluded driveway, turning left onto Wilkins before making a right onto the service drive.

“I don’t know what to say right now other than I love you and always will,” William says.

I reach for his hand, turn toward my window, and choke back tears.

“I love you too, William.” I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing full well that we’ll never be together like this again. “I love you too.”

He makes the right onto Alfred Street and creeps toward Brewster Loop. We’ve yet to see another person or vehicle. The early morning sun hides behind ominous dark clouds. I turn and study the four empty towers to our left, hoping for either a vision or a word cloud but getting neither. It’s as if the four old structures have blocked my powers and are mocking me. I imagine Face up there somewhere, watching our approach and loving every second of it.

The overwhelming nature of my task keeps hitting me: How do I destroy an entire city block and take down the demonic Perennial kingpin?

“I have no idea,” I whisper.

“What was that?” William says, slowing for the left onto Brewster Loop.

“Nothing. I’m just thinking out loud.”

London’s voice in my head:
Trust your abilities, but don’t trust anything or anybody else.

Then Vagabond’s voice:
My advice is to not trust anything or anybody except your abilities.

I feel the two of them rooting for me from somewhere close by. They won’t interfere with my test, though. Even if I’m about to die, they won’t step in to save me. As with so many other things lately, that’s just something I know and feel.

Making the turn, William says, “Hey, Alix?”

“I’m listening.”

“Just be confident, stay strong, and kick some ass, okay?”

I smile for a moment, but the smile fades the moment he completes the turn onto Brewster Loop and Blade awakens in my back pocket. The knife vibrates with its strongest intensity yet. I sit up straight, head swiveling as I scan Oval City in all directions, seeing nothing but tall weeds, scattered garbage, walls of graffiti, and urban decay.

The word cloud finally hits, the crisp black letters resting against a welcome backdrop of white: First tower—now.

“Stop!” I say.

William hits the brakes hard, jolting us forward and then back in our seats. Tower one is to my immediate right, but I’m staring straight ahead, breathing calmly and deeply as I prepare myself. I don’t know what awaits me inside, so all I can do is keep telling myself that this is a test I can pass.

It’s not impossible. Vagabond wouldn’t do something like that to you.

“William,” I say. “I know Face’s portal is somewhere belowground, but something’s waiting for me in this tower. According to Vagabond’s rules and the little deal you cut with Fire, you can’t help me from here on out, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“Then wait here,” I say, furrowing my brow. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“Wow. I’ve never seen you so intense. It’s sexy as hell.”

“I’m a demon slayer, William.” I smile and stare at him as I open the door. “It’s an intense line of work.”

I hop out of the toasty Yukon and into the crisp October air. Then I remove my Tigers sweatshirt and jeans: I’m wearing a skin-tight black yoga outfit, a pair of black Chuck Taylors, and a magical silver knife sheathed at the small of my back. I toss the jeans and sweater onto the passenger seat and give William one last look.

“Damn, Alix,” he says. “This is a total turn on. You really are a badass, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea.” I adjust my glasses and check that Blade is secure. “No idea at all.”

William digs through the pockets of my jeans and holds up my phone. “You don’t want this?”

“Keep it safe,” I say. “Something tells me phones are useless in Oval City today.”

He studies my phone screen for a few moments. “You’re right.” He shows me the screen. “The power’s on but it’s totally dead.”

“Yours is probably the same. Take a look.”

He retrieves his phone from his back pocket, inspects it, and nods.

“It’s those damn demons,” he says, shaking his head and giving me a concerned look. “Be careful in there. I look forward to kissing you again.”

I flash one last smile before closing the door and walking toward the menacing tower with a confident look on my face but sheer terror charging through my cells.

No boards cover the long-gone windows of the gutted brick towers, leaving countless evenly spaced, square-shaped dark openings all over the buildings. The main floor entrances are barricade-free as well. Although the absence of boarded-up windows will make for an easier escape from the tower (if necessary), the overall darkness and silence that greet me as I enter are unsettling.

Blade’s frantic movements continue inside the sheath, so I remove the knife and hold it waist-high in front of me, moving the weapon in sweeping arcs as I venture into the ground floor rubble. It’s wide open in here, one giant, hollow brick and concrete room smothered in layers of graffiti and years of debris. The upper floors are mostly gone. Dim light slices through the blown-out windows. I see the top of the tower fourteen stories above. On the far wall in front of me, a dangerous-looking staircase leads to the jigsaw puzzle–like remains of the higher floors.

A childlike female voice from high above sings my name slowly, as if it’s a lyric in a baby’s lullaby:
“Al-ixxxxx…Oh, Al-ixxxxx!”

Her high-pitched laughter echoes through the cavernous tower, making it difficult to pinpoint the voice’s location. But I know the laugh.

“Hello, Aruna.” I stop at the staircase and study the crumbling sections of the floors above. “What’s on your mind today?”

“Oh, hello, special girl.” She giggles. “It’s so nice to see you again. Why don’t you come up here and find out what’s on my mind?”

Blade tugs me forward toward the stairs. This troubles me. Aruna isn’t evil, and up until now Blade has only acted up when something demonic is near.

Which means Aruna’s leading me into a trap.

I step over a disturbing pile of small drug pipes stained purple with Perennial and begin ascending a staircase that seems ready to collapse with every step I take. Aruna’s idiotic laughter constantly carries throughout the tower. As I pass the remains of Floors 2 and 3, I realize that one false step will send me to the hard concrete of the debris-laden ground floor.

I pause on the fourth floor. Like the other levels, there isn’t much to it, just a section of concrete about three feet wide that hugs half the perimeter of the tower. A copper taste fills my mouth again. My heart hammers away at my ribs. It occurs to me that I’m battling demons on their home turf for the first time. Blade urges me forward but I resist, knowing that I need a better sense of exactly where Aruna is.

“Aruna?” I say, my voice echoing. “You’re sure quiet all of a sudden.”

“You’re getting warm, Alix.” She continues to giggle. “Very warm.”

I swallow hard and navigate the stairs to Level 5, which still has roughly half of its original floor remaining. Aruna’s there when I enter. She’s standing twenty feet away on a slab of jagged concrete that ends barely ten feet to my right and her left. If either of us falls off the edge, we’re either dead or paralyzed for life.

I place my left palm on the cement wall next to me and stay close to it. Then I slowly approach Aruna, who now hums a tune I don’t recognize. I’m holding Blade down by my right side, but the knife keeps thrusting forward, wanting me to attack. That’s what I still don’t get. I see no hint of a trap, just Aruna and me on a very dangerous piece of concrete. I can’t possibly attack an actual human with Blade. That would be murder, not demon slaying.

Aruna looks even worse than she did behind Zeppelin Coffee. She’s wearing the same old jeans and frayed black tank top. Her ribs push against the fabric of the shirt. Red needle punctures line her pasty, stick-like arms, and her long, matted dark hair fails to hide her gaunt, haunting face. She puts her hands behind her back and moves closer to the edge of the drop, smiling at me with rotten black teeth and bloodshot eyes.

“You sure picked a strange place to talk,” I say, stopping ten feet away from her and leaning all of my weight against the wall.

“We’re not here to talk, special girl,” she says in her annoying adolescent voice. “We’re here to watch you die.” She laughs so loudly I have to cup my free hand over one ear. “Nice outfit, by the way. I never pegged you as the Lululemon type.”

“I’m not,” I say, my eyes glued to hers. “Aruna, where’s Face? It’s time to end this.”

After a long silence, she says, “Like the Crawler told you in your daddy’s special office, Face is everywhere.”

I squint and feel my stomach flip. “How do you know about the—”

Blade’s handle presses firmly into my right palm. White lights rips through my head. Aruna’s face pops into my mind and flashes seven times. At first I don’t know what to make of it, but the vision makes sense when I open my eyes and see
seven
Arunas connected at the hips like conjoined clones. There’s a brief moment where I’m convinced my eyes are playing tricks on me. I blink several times but still see seven Arunas linked at the waist.

From less than ten feet away, fourteen thin arms and legs, along with seven smiling but ugly faces, begin advancing toward me, ready to wrap me up like a toy and throw me off the edge of the concrete, I imagine. I’m trapped with my back against the wall. The Arunas laugh in unison. One Aruna laughing is bad enough. Seven laughing Arunas is like having sharp knives repeatedly jabbed into your ears. My only hope is the staircase to my right, but three Arunas already block it. As for the window to my left, falling five floors onto Brewster Loop isn’t my idea of a safe trip.

The Aruna to my far left raises her outside arm. Something hard collides with the side of my head. A chunk of concrete the size of a baseball falls to the ground in front of me, and I scream from the pain of the impact and drop to one knee. Warm blood trickles down the left side of my face. I’m woozy but manage to squat against the wall as I try to regain my senses.

“Gee, I’m sorry,” the seven Arunas say, followed by that awful laughter. “That must’ve really hurt.”

The Aruna on the far right raises her outside arm, but this time I see the missile coming and raise Blade just in time to use the knife as a shield. A softball-sized lump of concrete explodes into white dust the moment it makes contact with Blade. The Arunas don’t like it. Their screams rattle my bones.

Just as I’m ready to strike, the Aruna in the middle launches a soccer ball–size chunk of concrete straight at my head, but I manage to duck and roll to my left as it slams against the wall and disintegrates into a cloud of fine white dust.

“Enough already!” I yell, mustering the strength to spring to my feet and charge the Aruna on the far left, the one who scored the hit on me.

What I find odd is that she doesn’t attempt to defend herself. That’s what I’m thinking as I scream and launch myself airborne, raising Blade high over my shoulder and driving the weapon downward as fast as possible toward Aruna’s left eye.

My eyes bulge with shock and surprise as I pass directly through her. It’s as if she isn’t there. She’s an illusion, and the momentum of my stabbing motion nearly sends Blade straight into the meat of my right thigh. I stumble forward and fall to my knees three inches from the edge of the jagged floor. I scramble to my feet and turn. The seven Arunas have turned as well. They face me and squeal with earsplitting laughter, all fourteen Aruna arms now holding chunks of concrete the size of bowling balls. They’re laughing because they have me right where they want me—surrounded, on the edge of the precipice and ready to chuck their missiles from hell at me and watch with demonic delight as I fall to my death.

I have no chance.

Amidst the torturous laughter, I tighten my fist around Blade and take a final look at all seven Arunas, searching for any differences between them or any overall signs of weakness. This is obviously not the real Aruna, just another part of Face’s test for me.

Three Arunas on the left. Three Arunas on the right.

One Aruna in the middle.

White light flashes in my head the moment I lock eyes with the center Aruna. And then it’s gone, leaving me in a stare down with the middle Aruna.

She’s the energy source. The light just confirmed it.

My lips curl into a smile. At the same time, identical looks of surprise cross the faces of the Arunas. As if trying to catch up to my white-light vision, they immediately cock their arms back and throw their concrete missiles at me. But they’re too late. I’m already airborne again, screaming like mad as more than a dozen cement boulders whiz past me, a few of them grazing the sides of my face and body as I bring Blade down hard toward the left eye of the center Aruna.

Blade plunges deep into the eye socket like an arrow hitting wet sand, sending a geyser of yellow and red ooze skyward and onto my face and glasses. The middle Aruna shrieks like a wounded animal and falls onto her back, bringing her six phantom likenesses down with her.

I’m straddling her waist now, still screaming from fear and adrenaline as Aruna writhes in agony. Problem is I can’t get Blade out of her eye. The knife is almost completely embedded into the demon’s head. Only a few inches of handle sticks out.

That’s when the floor begins crumbling and shaking from the impact of the Arunas’ fall.

Great.

“Come on!” I yell, feeling increased heat coming from Aruna. I pull on Blade’s handle with both hands. “Get out of there, Blade! Get out of Aruna’s head!”

I pull with all of my strength. The knife finally gives with a loud sucking sound just as Aruna’s pre-Fire heat seems to burn through the stretchy fabric of my yoga pants. I dive forward off her and roll until I hit the back wall. Then I sheathe Blade and look toward the Arunas. They’re convulsing in unison and weakening the floor with every move.